The High Road, or the Low?
by Sci F.I. Warper
Summary: When Hotch and Morgan are found after being kidnapped by an unsub, they have a long road to go to recovery. Of course, it probably doesn't help that the unsub is still out there, bidding his time.
1. Prologue

A.N. : Well, the time has come to submit my small part to the wonderful world of Criminal Minds. I kinda got inspiration for this fic from reading a whole bunch of h/c and watching "100". Anywho, the plot is to tell the tale mainly in regards to the aftermath of torture, but there will be plenty of flashbacks to tell all. I'm not quite sure yet how far I'm going to take stuff (it won't be overly graphic, but certainly uncomfortable) but I'm keeping the M rating to be safe. As always, I do not own Hotch (damn), Morgan(damn), Spencer (double damn), or the rest of the BAU, I'm merely borrowing them for my own sick or twisted amusement. So, please, read, enjoy, and review!

**_bold italic= random statement/place_**

_italic= thoughts/flashbacks._

**_It had been thirteen days._**

Special Agent Dr. Spencer Reid pondered on how so short a time, when relavistically compared to say a month, a year, much less a person's life spam, could seem so long. He stood, pondering the complex mechanisms by which the human body was made to feel and express emotion, the chemical imbalance caused by a sudden release of hormones into the critical places of the brain and body. All interpreted by the frontal lobe into simple, common words: anger, fear, doubt, relief..... For a moment, he mused on a fading connection between the jarring changes in time perception each of these feelings produced and Einstein's theory of Relativity. If he had wanted to, he might have developed an argument that the various "chemical engines" of the human body moved it at varying rates causing the so called variability in time perception. He could have, had Special Agent Dave Rossi not just shoved a steaming cup of coffee into his hand.

"How are they?" the senior agent asked, carefully studying the younger man's profile.

"Hotch has entered and awoken from four REM cycles in the past three hours, Morgan from three," replied Reid, his tone mechanical. Rossi frowned slightly, but made no mention of it. He knew Reid needed the detachment to process the condition of not only his best friend, but his replacement father figure as well.

"And the girl?" he asked, looking through the hospital window. From his view, he could see both Special Agents Hotchner and Morgan lying eerily still on two adjacent hospital cots. Both men were covered by a standard cotton sheet with their arms gently placed at their sides over the cover, giving access to the IV's in each man's arm. Sitting between them in a hard chair, with lime green, synthetic leather covering, was a young woman no older then twenty-three at the most. Though her back was turned to the two agents standing outside, Rossi could easily picture her medium length, sandy brown hair hanging lankly around a long, pinched looking face. Her eyes were large and a lovely shade of sky blue. _At one time_, he thought to himself_, they were probably her best feature_. That was before he met her, however. Long before the once innocent young woman had been dragged down into a nightmare beyond her control.

_**It had been thirteen days.**_

"The only times she's moved are when the nightmares start," Reid replied. This time Rossi thought he heard a twinge of guilt in the young genius' voice. It was a feeling he understood all to well. While they had managed to find Hotch, Morgan, and the girl alive, they had been too late to save them from the worst damage. God only knew what would happen to the three of them from this point on.

"He barely recognized me," Reid said suddenly, his face becoming paler then usual, "Morgan, I mean. He wouldn't let me near him till Audrey assured him who I was."

Rossi glanced up at the other profiler, his expression unreadable. The reaction wasn't something either profiler was surprised by, necessarily. Both understood on a clinical and a personal level the effect nightmares had on a person's perceptions, especially waking up. They were both certain, given what Hotch and Morgan had gone through, it would be difficult for a long time to readjust to reality after such dreams. Rossi feared it would be even worse for the girl Audrey. Though she had physically come out of the ordeal relatively unscathed (the doctor had to give her fifteen stitches for the gashes along her left thigh and right arm, bandaging for her wrists, and minor painkillers for the aches and bruises from her stay in the Unsub's bunker), Rossi feared the Unsub had played heavily on her psychological terror rather then physical torment. It was in keeping with the profile and made the older profiler's stomach turn. While he couldn't help but be impressed at the strong front the girl had put up since their rescue, Rossi had also noticed he hadn't seen her sleep more then the doctors had initially induced.

With a sigh, he reached up to give Reid's shoulder a gentle squeeze. Out of the entire team, Reid was probably the most lost at the moment and Rossi felt it his duty to fill in the role of friend and mentor at least until Hotch or Morgan were ready for the mantel again. _If they ever wil be_, he thought privately as he walked past the young man's still frame and turned to enter the room's doorway.


	2. Calm before the Storm

A.N. This is kind of the prologue extended....the fun stuff will be coming up next chapter. As always, I own nothing. Please enjoy and Review!

* * *

Audrey turned at the sound of footsteps, inwardy flinching at the memories such a simple sound could dredge up. Unintentionally, she gripped Aaron's hand tighter then before as she forced herself to turn her head. An older man (_Rossa, Rossin, something like that,_ she thought) stood in the doorway watching her...them intently. Meeting her eyes he gave her a sad sort of smile before stepping further into the room.

"Do you mind if I...?" he asked, gesturing with an open hand towards the second chair pressed against the far wall by Aaron. Audrey pondered the question for a moment. She knew they were safe and that the man was a friend of Aaron's and Derek's. She knew that he and the others wanted only to be there for their friends and colleagues, but a part of her didn't, couldn't let that happen. Even now, an irrational wave of protectiveness seized her, almost as badly as the shaking that came over her when she heard any footsteps behind her. Gritting her teeth, she forced herself to slowly nod to the man.

The sad smile returned as he quietly crossed the tile floor towards the chair. Audrey felt a glimmer of relief as he picked it up and quietly carried it to the other side of Aaron's bed. Rossi sat down quickly, resisting the urge to take Hotch's other hand. Judging from the way the young woman was watching him, her blue eyes sunken and darkly shaded by the bags under them but eerily sharp, he knew the gesture would be unwelcome. He watched as she unconsciously shifted in her chair to face him, placing her person squarely between Morgan and his own line of sight. It was a protective gesture and one far too similar to the way they had found the pair.

"I just thought you'd like to know that the doctor cleared you for tomorrow morning," Rossi said, testing the waters gently, "Is there someone you would...."

"I'm not leaving," the girl practically hissed, her shoulders tightening visibly, "I'm not leaving them."

"I know," Rossi replied. It hadn't taken Garcia more then two minutes to pull up Audrey's scant history. Her parents lived somewhere in the middle of rural Missouri where cell phone service was apparently not believed in. Garcia was still trying to contact them.

"I just meant," he continued, remembering to keep his tone as conversational as possible, "Was there anyone you'd like us to contact to bring you some toiletries or fresh clothes."

He noted sadly as he spoke that the girl was in little more then dark blue hospital scrubs that accentuated her fine bone structure The clothes they found her in were to torn, bloody, and stained by bad memories for them even to consider returning them to her, even if they hadn't been put into evidence. The white bandages along her wrists stood out starkly from the blue, reminders of the raw cuts and burns caused by ropes and manacles she had worn the past thirteen days A faint bruise was already starting to fade just below the upper half of her thin cheek bone right beneath her left eye. It was the only visible mark on her face telling what she had endured. That and a worn, if not permanently haunted set to her gaze.

"No," the girl replied calmly, her face droping in what seemed to be apologetic embarrasment, "I'm fine."

Rossi noted the way she flinched slightly as an orderly passed by the door. Closing her eyes, the girl inhaled slightly before opening them again to look first at Hotch then Morgan. He watched as a brief glimmer of relief passed over her features as though she needed the extra assurance that both men were safe. He chose to ignore the way her grip tightened on Hotch's hand, turning her knuckles white.

"Are you sure?" he continued, trying to draw her into conversation. While he knew the young woman would need far more counseling then he or the other remaining team members could give her, he also knew they could at the very least aid in the first few steps. To do that, though, meant a trust had to be attained. He resisted the urge to add he or another of the agents would be willing to go to her apartment or drive her there and back. Based on a initial interview, Audrey had revealed the unsub had broken into her apartment when he kidnapped her. Rossi was certain the idea of another individual whom she did not know in her home would be unwelcome at best.

The girl nodded slowly, her eyes turning back to Morgan. For a long time a heavy silence filled the large hospital room, punctuated only by the heavy breathing of the sleeping Glancing over briefly at Rossi, Audrey saw the older man watching her intently though not overtly. She frowned, her gaze traveling to Aaron once again. She was glad, for once, to see both men asleep. Despite their nightmares or maybe because of them, she (better then anyone else, she believed) understood how much they needed the false peace slumber provided. She'd be damned if she let anything interrupt it. She owed them that much at least.

Glancing over at Rossi again, she saw the older profiler look down at Hotch. For a second only, she watched his features fall. His expression seemed darker somehow, sadder. There was something like anger in the set of his jaw which she recognized for what it was. Aaron had spoken Rossi's name enough for her to understand the two were friends. Though she didn't know the man, she knew the worry that briefly blanketed his features. It was enough for her.

"I'm sorry," she said suddenly, catching Rossi by surprise, " I know you're trying to help. It's....it's been a difficult couple of weeks."

The worried expression vanished, replaced once again by cool professionalism. A memory flashed through Audrey's mind. A similar mask cracking beneath a mixture of anger, pain, and guilt. Her insides felt washed out in cold water as the memory carried with it arms wrapping around her so tightly she couldn't breath. She almost didn't hear Rossi's reply.

"There's nothing to be sorry for," the man replied. Though his expression was rigid, his tone was warm and kind, "Difficult probably doesn't even begin to cover it."

Audrey smiled weakly at him. The gesture felt almost foreign to her now. Tears felt more befitting now. Always silent tears, except once

"I think I made it through okay," she said casually. _Better then some at least._

Rossi didn't respond. Seconds past, each one carrying it's own silence but for the breathing. Audrey shifted in her seat, uncomfortable in the suffocating silence. While she had craved it before, Rossi's presence changed things. It brought back thoughts she would rather forget. Footsteps sounded in the hall, deafening to her ears. Before she could stop herself, she flinched physically.

"Why don't you turn the chair around?" Rossi asked, noticing the way self-irritation drew her lips into a tightly twisted frown.

Audrey looked at him, her face falling in sheepish embarrassment. Shaking her head, she withdrew her hand from Hotch's. Rossi wondered if that was the first time she sat without holding either of the men's hands since she came in. Grasping her other hand the way she had held Hotch's, he watched as she squeezed tightly on the thin fingers before releasing them and squeezing again. It was as though the digits were permanently frozen in the action, unsure of how to do anything else anymore. Suddenly, the girl seemed smaller and weaker then before.

"I read somewhere that a symptom of PTSD is a need to be in site of a doorway," she replied, modeling his cold impassiveness, "I'm...that is I....I won't let what happened run the way I live my life."

Rossi nodded, taking in what the young woman said. He couldn't say he didn't admire her courage, given what she had just come through. It bothered him, however, how quickly she seemed to be shoving the experience aside. Granted, she was not denying it happened though Rossi was almost certain denial might have been better. It seemed to him that she was denying how deeply it had effected her. He knew on a personal level just how deeply the scars of her experience could go. He knew how they never could perfectly heal and the ways in which the mind bent to protect them, to adapt. He knew because he himself had been in her shoes and had seen it in the faces of countless others. He also knew the results of the approach she was taking. _But who am I to throw stones,_ he thought to himself.

"No....No.....pl-," a soft voice moaned from the other side of the room, so soft Rossi wasn't even sure if he had heard it.

Even admits a nightmare, Morgan seemed incapable of allowing himself to show weakness. Yet Audrey was up and moving in an instant, sitting on the edge of his bed so that his hand fell just on the edge of her left thigh. As she took hold of the same hand, Rossi watched her speak quietly to the injured man, gently trying to wake him before the dream grew worse. It was only seconds before Morgan began to thrash.


	3. The Beginning

_He remembered feeling sheer exhaustion. It had already been a week since the team was called out to Portland to help in the search of serial kidnapper. A week since his latest victim had been discovered in the back alley of the police station they had centered in. A week since a young woman with similar features to the last victim had disappeared from her apartment. A week without so much as a lead._

_Sitting on his bed in the hotel room he shared with Reid, he cracked open the case file bearing the young woman's photo. Audrey Renfeild was a twenty three year old student and part time waitress. Like the other victims, she had long, light brown hair and narrow features. Oddly, her eyes were sky blue instead of green. The change had upset their original profile until it was suggested by interviews with co-workers that she wore colored contacts while working. That fact, in and of itself, suggested a slew of possibilities as to how the unsub made contact with his victims, though only one other victim worked in food service. Unfortunately, that victim was now laying in a permanent vegetative state in Legacy Emanuel Hospital's ICU. He, along with four other men and one woman had physically survived through whatever ordeal they had been put through, though he wouldn't exactly say any of them had lived through it. The two not placed into comas were lost, probably forever, in their own minds._

_Closing the folder, Morgan rubbed his face. It had taken a direct order from Hotch to make him return to the hotel and catch up on what sleep he'd missed. It wasn't as though this case was any more unique then others they had encountered. Granted, the fact that the victims were returned alive was a different twist but the level of physical and psychological damage pointed towards a sexual sadist. Something they dealt with on almost a daily basis. This case, however, got to him. Though he would never admit it openly, finding the body of the young man in the alley brought a whole new level to the case (not to mention memories he would rather forget). Even though he knew he needed to remain detached, the image of a little boy, with a face like Audrey's, left in the same position as the victim made it nearly impossible for him to sleep. Instead, he had put whatever energy he had in reserve trying to figure this bastard out before it was too late._

_That energy had seemed to run its course, however. Collapsing backwards on the bed, he felt his eyes start to close as his muscles relaxed. Forcing himself to sit up again, he managed to pull off his shoes before lying back down, too tired to care about the rest of his clothing. The clock read 11pm beside him._

_He woke up with a pounding headache. Groaning, he turned over on his side, the mattress room felt colder then before making him wondered if Reid had been messing with the thermostat again. For someone the size of a twig, the young genius had an irritating preference for the cold. It made absolutely no sense to him, considering her knew Reid had grown up in Las Vegas. Deciding to yell at him later as another overwhelming wave of sleepiness washed over him, he turned onto his other side. Before again surrendering completely to sleep, he cracked open an eyelid to check the time._

_A cold chill ran through him as he realized he wasn't alone. Bolting up, he surprised his attacker with his sudden movement. The man fell backwards from his kneeling position as Morgan felt a sharp pinch in his right thigh. Glancing down, he saw a hypodermic needle sticking out of his side. Reaching for his firearm, he found his vision blur as a wave of nausea swept over him. He felt himself slide down against the bed's edge. The shape in place of where the man had been rolled away from him, coming to a stop beside another shape on the floor. Morgan felt a jolt of fear as the last of his consciousness recognized the shape of a person. Blinking, he tried to call out for someone but his voice was weak even to his dulling senses. Darkness swept in over the edges of his vision...._"Derek. Derek. Derek, wake up!" a voice called out over the darkness.

He awoke with a jolt, clenching his hands unconsciously. Audrey winced as the large palms encased her fingers in a crushing vice grip. For a moment, the profiler looked around the room, his eyes glazed over and his breath coming in short gasp. He looked around the room, not really seeing where he was as the dream kept its hold on him. As his eyes fell on Audrey, he let out a defeated half-whimper before closing his eyes again, as though wishing sleep would take him back.

"Shh, shh," Audrey said, her voice just barely above a whisper, "Derek, it's okay. We're safe, it's okay."

She leaned forward slightly, to rest a hand on his shoulder. He opened his eyes at the touch, the dark orbs moving up the arm to look at the face attached to it. Rossi felt his stomach clench again as he thought he saw tears brimming in the younger profiler's eyes. Yet none fell as Morgan closed his eyes again, his jaw tightening noticeably, and nodded to Audrey. The girl for her part remained frozen in place, her eyes clouded over with worry. The cloud vanished, however, as Morgan opened his eyes again.

"Where's Hotch?" he asked, his voice hoarse. Audrey glanced over to the other side of the room, her eyes meeting Rossi's. Morgan's gaze followed hers, first looking at Rossi before settling on Hotch's calmly sleeping form. Rossi was certain he could see Morgan's relief as the younger man's shoulders seemed to relax. Looking back up at Rossi, Morgan cleared his throat.

"Rossi," he said, his voice only slightly less hoarse then before.

"Derek," the older profiler replied, keeping his tone as casual as possible. It took all he had to repress the sudden flash of rage towards the unsub for what he had done to his coworkers, his friends, "How are you?"

"Been better," Morgan replied, coughing. His chest felt like it was on fire for a moment but he refused to even grimace. Settling down into the cot, he turned his gaze to the ceiling. Audrey had long since let go of his shoulder, though he could still feel her thin, chilled fingers pressed in his hand. Realizing he was still clutching onto her, he forced his hands to release only to have Audrey wrap those same fingers around his hand again. The gesture, meant to be comforting, brought only a sense of guilt. Silently, he wished the girl would let him go while at the same time hating himself for clutching to her hand again, albeit gently this time. He didn't deserve her kindness or compassion. He had failed himself, and more importantly her and Hotch.

Her other hand traced patterns along the back of his hand. Back and forth, back and forth her fingers ran atop his. The motion was soothing in its simplicity. He felt his eyes begin to drift close and stiffened. Yet her hand kept moving back and forth.

"It's okay, Derek," her voice sounded so far away, "Go to sleep. I'll pull you back."

She never said back from what. They both knew. Another wave of guilt washed over him at her words, almost preventing him from falling asleep. He was the one who was suppose to pull her from the darkness....

**Her fingers ran back and forth.****

* * *

**A.N.: Well, I'd like to thank everyone who has reviewed so far (cookies for you!). Sorry there's not much detail about what happened, but I figure it's better to take things slow. Hopefully Morgan wasn't too OOC, but if he was, feel free to let me know and I shall do my best to fix it. Till next time....


	4. Reactions

Reid sat in the waiting room of the ICU staring out over his now cold cup of coffee. He had just gotten off the phone with JJ, the pair sharing in a quick trade of updates. Prentiss, he found out, was currently en route to the crime scene while Penelope was monitoring for use of either Hotch or Morgan's cell phone and credit cards. With all three senior analyst at the hospital, JJ had gone back with Garcia to run lead and deal with the higher ups.

Reid sighed, leaning his head back against the wall. It had been twelve hours since the rescue. Nine hours since Morgan and Hotch had been stabilized. Six since both men had woken the first time to find the team surrounding and supporting them. This was first time in twelve hours that Reid had been more then ten feet away from either of them. Setting down the cup, he ran both hands down his face. If the head nurse hadn't glared at him and politely suggested he take the call in the waiting room, he would still be at the window. Now, he wasn't even sure he could go back.

Unlike the light blue and white walls of the ICU, the waiting room was a mix of calming beige and mint green. Off-white colored chairs lined the wall, periodically broken by brown blocks covered by magazine. The same bright florescent lights shined from the ceiling. With the exception of the lights, the entire room, the entire building really, was psychologically designed for the grieving, the fearful, and the dying. Wringing his hands together, Reid swallowed and shifted in the chair. Though the waiting room was meant to present itself as a place of calm and safety, not even the designers could deny the tensions it would hold. Despite the mellow colors, the hard furniture prevented one from feeling too comfortable and left enough room for alert, sudden movements. Unfortunately, there weren't any sudden movements he could really make.

Letting out a second sigh, he stood up. He had waved to Rossi before he had gone but he was sure the older profiler would start wondering where he was. Swallowing, he turned the corner, nodding briefly to the head nurse. The middle aged woman gave him a brief critical look before returning the nod. Shoving his hands into his pockets he walked down the hall.

**-------------BAU------------------------**

"Garcia?" JJ called out, sticking her head in Garcia's office. The BAU's computer analyst was sitting in her chair, typing away furiously at her keyboard.

"What, JJ?" she snapped, not even pausing to look at the door. The profiler behind her frowned, surprised by tone. Taking a step into the small room, she paused as something over the other woman's shoulder. Next to Penelope's computer screen was a small, clear picture frame containing a photo of her and Morgan at the bar the team sometimes visited after work. If she remembered correctly, that picture had been taken right after a particularly rough case involving a child rapist. They hadn't found the victim in time, and while Hotch and Gideon had vanished off to wherever they vanished off to, the rest of the team had gone to the bar. By the time the picture was taken, Morgan was certainly feeling no pain. In fact, it had pretty much been Garcia and Spence who had managed to get everyone else home and safe by the end of the night.

"Is there something you want?" Garcia snapped, swivelling around to glare at JJ. The profiler felt a tight pang in her chest as she saw the tear-tracks on the other woman's face. Crossing the distance, she place a hand on Penelope's shoulder and offered her a sympathetic smile.

"I-I'm sorry," said Garcia, "I just....seeing Morgan...and Hotch like that," she swallowed, "There's only been two other times in my life where I've wanted to kill another living soul."

"I know," said JJ, feeling her own tears threatening. She knew exactly how Garcia felt. Someone had hurt her family and there wasn't a thing in the world she wouldn't do to protect or fix it.

"We'll get him, Penelope," she said, looking the computer analyst directly in the eyes, "I promise, we'll get him."

**-----------Rural Oregon-------------------**

Prentiss sat in the passenger seat of the squad car, staring out the window. Pressing her lips against her fist, she closed her eyes. The cold feeling that had washed over her in the hospital seemed to have settled as a permanent pit at the bottom of her stomach. Images of Hotch and Morgan flashed unbidden through her mind.

She had felt a mixture of shock and relief seeing the pair in their hospital beds. In their search, they had uncovered some of the more unpleasant results of the agent' and victims' stay in the bunker. Some discoveries had left her praying they had not been used on either man, and others she couldn't even allow the possibility. The smell of blood was everywhere. Seeing them in the hospital simply confirmed their safety for her, but not without its cost. Normally, neither man would permit themselves to show weakness. Even after his hospitalization following the Reaper attack, Hotch shelled himself in, nearly killing himself in the process. Morgan was no better, though Emily had never really seen him in the hospital before. Seeing them as they woke up had turned the cold feeling into a penetrating chill.

"Ma'am, we here," the officer called out, pulling her from her thoughts. Prentiss opened her eyes, glancing out the front window. She stared at a small house set right at the edge of a pine forest. A train of police and FBI vehicles surrounded the structure. On the side facing her, she could see what appeared to be a large hole surrounded by crime scene tape. It was the only evidence of the bunker's existence.

Opening her door, she stepped out of the squad car. Her stomach rolled at the thought of revisiting the area and examining the Unsub's methodology, but she pushed that feeling to the back of her mind. Her team members were out of danger, but they were still a far cry from being safe. The Unsub was still out there, and while he had yet to go after his previous victims, his severe deviation taking Hotch and Morgan left the original profile useless. With the recovery of both agents, he would know that there would be no doubt if he was caught. Whatever threats he might have made or damages he caused wouldn't stop justice being served.

_First we have to catch him_, Prentiss reminded herself, as she passed the bunker entrance. In order to do that, though, a new profile had to be formed. So here she was, returning to the crime scene, but more importantly the Unsub's home. She hoped the house would contain some clue to help them catch the bastard. She hoped for Hotch's sake and Morgan's.

* * *

A.N. Hey all. So yeah, I kinda wanted to show a little about the team's feelings now that Hotch and Morgan have been found and what they're doing to find the Unsub before he kidnaps someone else or (gasp) goes after Hotch, Morgan, and Audrey. Anywho, I'll start getting into more details of exactly what happened to the boys in the next few chapters and start up on the h/c, so please keep reading. Also, I apologize for the psuedo explanation of psychology and FBI procedure. I'm an idiot on these things so I make it up as I go. I'm also sorry if anyone seems ooc. Please, let me know. Anyway, as always, I hope you enjoyed and please review!


	5. Echoes in the night

_He remembered voices; loud, unintelligible sounds grating against his already throbbing skull. He felt himself grimace, turning his head from the noise till his cheek touched a cold, smooth surface. In the back of his mind he knew something was wrong but he didn't care. His head hurt too much. He was cold. The darkness of unconsciousness had been comfortable. Again, the back of his mind began interjecting unwanted observations. He was in shock, most likely with a concussion. The feel of the cold, smooth surface pressed against his back indicated he was undressed... He couldn't remember undressing... His head hurt._

_"Hotch."_

Aaron Hotchner opened his eyes. For a moment, he just stared at his surroundings as the sound of his name echoed in his mind. His head no longer hurt. In fact, nothing hurt but a slight pinch in his left hand. Lifting it up, he could see the strips of white tape pressing down on the IV needle to keep it in place. Setting the hand back down, he looked around the room. The lights were turned off, leaving only the faint glow of the monitors as his only light. He could feel the rough plastic of the clip attaching his finger to the monitor almost more acutely than the thin cotton fabric of the hospital gown. The room smelled clean, though without the overpowering odor of antiseptics. In fact, any smell would have been undetectable save for the absent coppery assault his senses had consistently taken for the last few weeks.

Eventually, his eyes moved from beyond his bed and adjacent monitors to the rest of the room. Glancing to his left, he didn't bother holding back a sudden intake of breathe. Sheer relief flooded him as he saw Morgan lying, almost peacefully, in the hospital bed beside him. The younger agent's face was turned towards him giving Hotch a full view of the damage. In all honesty, he couldn't help thinking Morgan got off easy. A plain, white, gauze bandage covered a good side of Morgan's forehead just above his right eyebrow. A scratch ran down the other side of his face, so thin Hotch could barely see it. The initial impression of the wounds made it seem as though Morgan had been on the lossing end of a bar fight. Hotch was certain that if he were to look in a proverbial mirror, he himself would resemble more a mangled raccoon then a drunken brawler. The assessment was hardly fair, however, and Hotch knew it. He knew about Morgan's broken ribs and his sprained ankle. He knew about the cuts along Morgan's arms and legs. He knew about the countless other bruises, marks, and pains the other agent was being treated for. He had heard every one inflicted and seen more besides.

Closing his eyes, Hotch swallowed. He could feel his heart rate accelerating at the memories. Taking a deep breathe, he forced himself not to panic and took another one. Opening his eyes again, he looked at Morgan again. A thousand thoughts and feelings rushed through his mind, leaving him incapable of assimilating them all. He was relieved and tense; happy and angry; sad, hurt, and terrified. Morgan looked peaceful in sleep, but Hotch was almost certain he could see shadows of their experience in his face. If the light wasn't playing tricks on his eyes, he was also certain Morgan had begun to dream.

His attention drifted from Morgan's face to his hand to the hand holding Morgan's. Audrey lay slumped over Morgan's bed with her head beside the agent's leg. Her other arm lay pinned beneath her head while her fingers tightly clutched at the thin sheet. She was still seated in the uncomfortable chair. Hotch frowned. The girl should be in a bed of her own. God knew how little she had slept in the past few weeks. Ironically, though, she had been the one who needed it most. The lack of rest played to well in the Unsub's game. It would have been in the profile, had the profile been complete. Hotch choked back a derisive chuckle. The profile had not only been incomplete, it had been downright wrong.

"How long have you been sitting there?" he suddenly asked the darkness.

" A few hours," Rossi replied, unsurprised by the question. He had known Aaron had seen him in his first look around the room. In fact, he had made sure to sit in view of the monitor so as not to frighten his fellow agent. However, he also knew the other man needed a moment or two to process.

"The lights?" Hotch continued.

"Right after Audrey fell asleep."

Hotch nodded, considering the answer for a moment. He felt tired, bone-weary exhausted. He wanted nothing more then to just close his eyes and drift back to sleep. Dave would understand. He would still keep watch over the three of them. Hotch closed his eyes, only to hear the same sounds echo over and over again in his head. He opened his eyes. There would be no sleep for now. Silence filled the room, giving company to the darkness. Several times Hotch opened his mouth, trying to say something, and found the words wouldn't come. He could feel his heart rate accelerating again as well as dampness around his eyes. There was only one question he really wanted to ask at the moment, but the thought of the answer scared him. He was to certain of what the answer would be.

"You know," Rossi finally said, seeing his friend's discomfort, "I never understood why they make hospital beds so uncomfortable."

Hotch blinked. Glancing at Rossi through the corner of his eye, he gave his friend and collegue a credulous look. Rossi smiled saddly back at him, shifting in his chair.

"I'm serious," he said, leaning forward and folding his hands together, "Of all things why make hospital beds uncomfortable? Most patients are already in the worst kinds of discomfort. The beds just make it worse."

Hotch smirked. It was a forced expression, dry and resigned. Whatever humor it was meant to represent never came close to touching his eyes. Rossi felt a spasm of pain in his chest as he realized how dead Hotch's eyes really were. His friend was hurting. He was hurting so much, in fact, he wasn't even bothering to hide it anymore. He was hurting and there was nothing Rossi could do about it.

"I know what your doing," Hotch replied, looking away.

"I know," responded Rossi, "Not one of my best conversation starters, but it got you talking."

There was a brief pause. Swallowing, Hotch closed his eyes again.

"You haven't found him," he said, more as a statement then a question. Rossi resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Typical Hotch, always heading straight into business without considering his own injuries first. _At least the unsub didn't take that from him,_ Rossi thought.

"No," said Rossi, "Not yet."

Hotch frowned, considering the statement.

"Who..." he began, and paused, "How did you find us?"

"An anonymous tip," replied Rossi, carefully studying Hotch's features, " Someone gave us the address."

He watched Hotch stiffen at the statement. Before Hotch and Morgan's disappearance the team had speculated on the existence of a team dynamic. However, according to both agents there had been only one assailant during their capture.

"You followed an anonymous tip?" Hotch asked curiously.

"It..." Rossi paused to consider his next choice of words. He understood Hotch would want to shove the incident aside until the Unsub had been caught. He was certain the other man would completely ignore his own physical and psychological health to do his job. He knew it was Hotch's way of coping and, as strong as his friend was, Rossi didn't want to add stress to an already stressed mind.

"It sounded credible over the phone," he said finally.

"How?"

Rossi sighed, realizing he had left himself open to the question.

"You were screaming," he replied quietly, looking down at his knees. Glancing up, he was surprised to see Hotch's face drawn back into an expression of horror.

"What?" exclaimed Rossi, concerned.

"Th-that's not possible," Hotch replied, his voice barely above a whisper, "There was no one else in the house b-but the Unsub and...."

The words drifted away as he looked over at Audrey and Morgan. There had been only one Unsub, he was sure of it. The walls....the walls had been to thin. He would have heard another person. _Oh God!_ Imagined noises echoed in his mind. The sound of things he could have stopped, should have stopped. There had been only one man, hadn't there? He could feel his breathe coming in short gasps.

"Hotch, Hotch, look at me," he suddenly realized Rossi was grasping his shoulders, forcing him to sit up. A sharp, stabbing pain ran briefly through his right side before subsiding to a dull throb.

"It's alright, Hotch," Rossi said, loosening his grip as he saw a spasm of pain cross the other man's face, "It's alright, your safe."

Hotch barely choked back a slight chuckle. Safe? He wasn't safe. Foyet had shown him that easily. His own home hadn't been able to hide him. The best he could be was prepared, and even that had done nothing. He glance over at Audrey and Morgan again. He was aware he wasn't safe, but there was no reason either of them should lose that delusion. Not after....

"That's enough, Hotch," he heard Rossi say seriously, "You need to rest. This can wait till tomor-"

"No!," Hotch interrupted suddenly and heatedly, "Dave, I'm not going to be responsible for what he may do. With the three of us gone, he'll...

"He'll either hunt you down or start again," Rossi continued, "We know, Hotch. We know."

"Not everything," responded Hotch. _Not everything.

* * *

_A.N. Uh-oh. What could the team possibly not know? Well, you'll have to wait and see. Sorry if everyone seems ooc, please let me know and I'll fix it. Next chapter I'll start getting into what happened to the boys and Audrey. It's not going to be pretty. Anyway, please review!


End file.
